


I'll Keep You (A Daydream Away)

by dressedupasmyself



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Best Friends, Christmas, Drinking, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Hogwarts, M/M, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Potions, Pranks, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Slytherin, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 13:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21356677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dressedupasmyself/pseuds/dressedupasmyself
Summary: When Slughorn retires, Hogwarts is in need of a new Potions Master. It doesn't take much convincing to get Harry to convince Draco to take the job.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hannah Abbott/Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 441
Collections: Deliciously Delightful Drarry, Platinum - HP





	I'll Keep You (A Daydream Away)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from A Daydream Away by All Time Low. Also loosely inspired by the song Haunt//Bed by The 1975.

_You're just a daydream away_   
_I wouldn't know what to say if I had you_   
_And I'll keep you a daydream away_   
_Just watch from a safe place_   
_So I never have to lose_

_***_

The Headmistress’ office used to scare the shit out of Harry.

Harry swivelled around in his seat, absently letting his gaze drift over the bits and pieces that adorned the room. While the layout was identical to what he remembered from his childhood, it would be extremely difficult to recognise unless one was intimately familiar with the room itself. Gone were the eccentric bottles and ornaments and mysterious shelves, replaced with clean, orderly books and charts that gave the impression of someone who knew exactly what they were doing and didn’t beat around the bush with it.

It had become a place that Harry thoroughly enjoyed spending time in.

“Will you focus?”

He was snapped from his daydream by a firm voice and a sharp pinch to his arm. He scowled at Hermione, who was standing over him with a stack of books in her arms. She rolled her eyes at his expression and stalked over to the bookshelf.

“Harry, I know you aren’t particularly interested in the politics of the situation, but we need your support on this,” McGonagall said from her spot behind the desk.

Harry blinked at her, then straightened up. “Yes, sorry, I know. I want to help. I was up all night helping Neville pick Night Phlox flowers.”

“I heard he got quite the yield this year,” Hermione commented.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I think he plans on getting someone to convert it to nightshade for Madame Pomfrey.”

“She’ll appreciate it,” McGonagall agreed. “Now, back to the reason why we’re all here. Draco Malfoy.”

Harry rubbed at his eyebrow. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, exactly.”

“I trust your judgement,” McGonagall explained. “Horace seems to think Draco would be the worst possible candidate for the job and is refusing the possibility. I think he might possess a unique charm that could be useful to both the school and possibly the students. What do you think?”

Harry snorted. “Unique charm. That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you want my honest opinion, Headmistress, I’d say just fuck everyone else and hire him.”

McGonagall sat back, looking amused. “Were you even listening to what Hermione and I were explaining to you earlier?”

Harry felt the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I know Slughorn is retiring so we need a replacement. I know the ministry is still on your arse trying to shut down Slytherin House. I know Draco works as a freelance Potioneer while managing the Malfoy estate. Hire him.”

“Very good,” Hermione muttered sarcastically as she wandered back over to the table. “You’ve managed to pay attention at a first-year level and repeat what we told you almost word for word. Now can you add some of your own insight?”

“He’s fucking scary,” Harry said, grinning. “I’d like to see some slimy minister employee try to take his House from him. Also, he’s surprisingly good with kids. Teddy adores him.”

McGonagall sighed. “As much as it pains me to admit, we do not have many other options available at this stage.” She shot a distasteful glance at the only other application they’d received. Harry made eye contact with Hermione, who looked amused. They’d all much prefer a former Death Eater on staff, rather than having to put up with the horror that was Zacharias Smith. “Now, to convince him.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You didn’t really need me to make a case for Draco Malfoy, did you?”

Hermione smiled indulgently. “Of course not. We already know you let him alone with Teddy. That’s the biggest show of trust we could ask for on your part. We just need you to convince him to take the job. Last I tried, he fought me tooth and nail on the matter and threw me out of the Manor.”

“Ouch,” Harry said. He looked at McGonagall, who had a satisfied look on her face. “Fine, I’ll give it a go. But just know that the two of you are much too manipulative for your own good.” He stood and stretched. “Now it you’ll excuse me; I need a nap.”

***

Malfoy Manor had bloomed after the end of the war.

Harry had tried to listen to Draco’s explanation of _magical cores _and _bonding_ and _pride_, but it all just gave him a bit of a headache, so he stuck with his own interpretation of the situation: Lucius’s fucked up magic made the house feel evil, because magical houses run on magical energy the way a flashlight runs on batteries. Or something like that.

Harry let himself in through the big iron gate and started the leisurely stroll up the driveway. As he went, he took in the peaceful atmosphere from the peacocks on the lawn and the flowers that bloomed along the path. In the distance, he could just begin to make out Draco’s pitch-black Pegasus, a majestic creature that had yet to warm up to Harry but seemed to adore Draco.

The front door was already open when Harry got there, Tabby waiting for him in her crisp, clean white pillowcase, her ears flapping impatiently.

“Mr Harry Potter Sir should come through the floo next time. Tabby is very busy and cannot wait all day for Mr Harry Potter Sir to walk all the way from the gate, Sir.” She continued muttering in annoyance, all the while ridding Harry of his coat and shoving him in the direction of the living room.

“I’ve told you a million times, there’s no need for you to wait for me every time I visit, Tabby. I know where the living room is.”

The disgraced look the house elf shot him at that was enough to make him shut his mouth and let her manhandle him into a chair. He took the cup of tea from her and let out a quiet sigh of relief when she finally left the room. He had never been the most comfortable around house elves, and somehow Draco’s elf just made things a hundred times worse.

Harry blew at his steaming cup and took a hesitant sip. It was perfect, of course. Tabby wouldn’t settle for anything less.

He’d finished half of his tea before he heard a voice in the hallway.

“Alright, thank you, Tabs. There’s a letter on my desk that needs to be posted immediately.”

The door swung open, revealing a ragged looking blond. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was greasy and standing up every which way. He was wearing a thin robe that drew Harry’s eyes to his collarbones and made his skin glow in the soft light from the big windows.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, sinking into his favourite armchair. He tucked his feet underneath him and reached for the cup of tea that appeared in front of him.

“Can’t I visit my friend without a reason?” Harry asked innocently.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you can and have done that a million times. It drives me off the wall.”

“And yet you still ask that question every time I show up,” Harry smiled. “One day you won’t ask anymore, you know.”

“Oh?” Draco asked. “I’ll just accept your constant random presence in my business as the norm?”

“Of course,” Harry teased. “Now in all seriousness, I do want something.”

Draco downed his entire cup of tea in one go. It had taken Harry a while to get Draco to drop his carefully constructed appearance in front of him. Since he’d managed it, Draco hadn’t bothered with any of his usual dignity, instead showing Harry a side to him that was all sleep deprivation and creative chaos. It was what allowed Harry to completely move on from their petty childhood feud and just be friends.

“What is it? Do you need me to babysit again? Because you know I don’t give a fuck, just drop him off.”

“No, it’s not actually about Teddy,” Harry said. “It’s about Slytherin.”

Draco rolled his eyes so hard Harry thought he might go blind. He sunk himself deeper into the sofa cushions.

“No.”

“Draco!” Harry complained. “You haven’t even heard me out yet.”

“I don’t need to. I have a mark on my arm that isn’t going away, and as much I stand by the mistakes I made as a teenager, I must consider that some jobs just won’t be possible for me. One of them happen to be teaching kids how to handle dangerous substances without making their parents break out in hives.”

“Well what if this isn’t about you?”

Draco glanced at Harry. “Everything is about me. I am literally the centre of my own universe.”

“Yes,” Harry said patiently. “but you’re not actually the axis that our entire solar system spins around. So, will you at least listen to my argument?”

“This is hardly an argument,” Draco countered. “I’ve argued with you a thousand times, and it’s usually much more fun than this.”

Harry glared at Draco, but it was futile. They had both experienced too much shit to be phased by anything that happened while drinking tea on Draco’s sofa.

“The ministry is looking to shut down Slytherin for good. As you probably know, Hermione is the acting liaison to the ministry within Hogwarts, and she’s managed to keep them at bay for a good couple of years now, but since Slughorn is retiring at the end of the year and there are no other Slytherin staff currently employed at Hogwarts, the ministry is trying to use this as an opportunity to go through with it.”

Draco frowned. “As much as I loathe that idea, I’m sure you can come up with a better solution than hiring a former Death Eater to spruce up Slytherin’s reputation.”

Harry abandoned his empty cup on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Do you know how many kids are currently sorted Slytherin?”

Draco shook his head minutely.

“Two hundred and seven,” Harry said. “And I can promise you that more than half of them have spent at least one night crying about it.”

Draco’s frown deepened even further.

“What I’m trying to explain to you is that these kids need someone to convince them that being Slytherin isn’t something to be ashamed of. They need to see what they can become if they allow the house to help them grow.”

“And that has to be me – why, exactly?”

Harry sat back, satisfied at the hint of doubt he could see on Draco’s face.

“Because you won’t allow them to get attached to Slytherin, only to have it snagged out from under them. Come on, Draco, I know you still have your tie hanging from your bedpost. Help me save that kind of pride from being forgotten?”

Draco sat up straight. “You’re one to talk, Mr Red and Gold patio furniture.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m not ashamed of it. And I know the kids in my house are well on their way to buying their own lion-shaped toilet paper holders. Can you say the same?”

“You have a lion-shaped toilet paper holder?”

Harry grinned. “Oh yeah, it’s in my suite at Hogwarts. When you take the job, you can come see it.”

Draco shook his head and lay back down. “Tell Granger that she’s a manipulative bitch.”

“Already did,” Harry said, reaching for his cup that had somehow refilled itself. “She and McGonagall are a combination that would have given me nightmares in fifth grade.”

“They’re giving me nightmares now,” Draco commented dryly, and Harry laughed.

“Now tell me why you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Draco’s head shot up, an excited glint in his eyes. “Just wait until I show you, you won’t understand a single thing.”

“Can’t wait.”

Neither of them made a move to get up just yet, though.

***

There had been fidgeting since Harry started the lesson. He’d managed to mostly ignore it, apart from a few sharp glares at a certain group of unruly Ravenclaws.

He finally lost it when Maria Miller nearly fell out of her seat with how she was straining her head to look at her friend in the back row.

“Alright, I can’t teach like this,” Harry proclaimed, dropping his wand on the table and perching on the edge with his arms folded over his chest. “Out with it. What’s got you all bundled into a twist?””

Eugene Davis hesitantly raised a hand.

“Yes?” Harry raised an eyebrow. The fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were his favourite class. They had a certain inquisitive energy that went beyond the textbook, and he could always count on some interesting theories being shared with him.

“It’s just that there’s a rumour going around school, sir, and we were wondering about it.”

Harry sighed. “Alright, but I have to warn you: it’s been a while since I’ve paid any attention to the rumour mill.” That was bullshit, and the few chuckles that went through the class was proof that he wasn’t fooling anybody. “What is it?”

“We heard that Professor Slughorn is retiring soon,” Eugene continued. “And some of us are planning on taking Potions for our NEWTs, so we were just wondering if you maybe knew who his replacement would be?”

Harry smiled despite himself. “That was meant to be a complete secret. I assume the entire school knows?”

Maria giggled, and Harry shot her an amused smile.

“Since I know that none of you will sit still unless I conform to your wishes,” That was also not true, he was excellent at controlling a class. He was being very indulgent that day, “I will share what little I know about the situation.”

The entire class sat up like a family of meerkats, attention sorely on him.

“It is true that Professor Slughorn is thinking of retiring,” Harry said carefully. “Nothing’s official yet, and I’m not sure when this will happen. However, when he does finally get to lay on a beach somewhere, catching a tan and drinking sangria while knowing that he never has to grade another paper again, he will be replaced with somebody extremely competent and smart. Professor McGonagall is working with Mrs Weasley on this, so rest assured that you will be placed in very capable hands.”

There was some more concerned eye contact among the students. Harry let it happen, knowing they’d eventually settle on a question to ask.

It was Kira Brown who finally put up her hand, which was so out of character that Harry had to school his shocked expression into a neutral one. “Yes, Ms. Brown?”

“I heard it might be Draco Malfoy,” she said, a hard edge to her voice.

Harry softened immediately. Lavender Brown had recovered almost completely from the nasty scratches from Greyback, but she was left with some ugly scars along her face and neck. He understood Kira’s hesitance at associating with somebody who caused her sister so much pain. He also felt a pinch of apprehension for Draco, because Harry knew that Draco would have to do so much more than any normal teacher to convince his students that he was trustworthy, and it was simply unfair.

Harry dragged a hand through his hair. “Alright. You all know that I always try to be as honest as possible with you. I know you’re smarter than most adults give you credit for, so I will never try to dismiss your intelligence by lying to you.” He let his gaze sweep across the room, making eye contact with every single child in front of him. All he saw were young people who had grown up with stories of the war, and who were now trying to fit those stories into their uncertain future.

“I can’t tell you who the next Potions Master is going to be. It might be Draco Malfoy; it might be someone completely different. I have no control over the situation. However, what I can tell you is that should it end up being Draco, it will be one of the best things to happen to this school.”

There was a gasp of shock, and Harry allowed himself a second to be amused at how little things have changed since he was the one in their position, despite how different the world felt.

“But Draco Malfoy used to be a Death Eater,” somebody said.

Harry nodded. “Yes. Draco and I didn’t get on very well in school. He liked to make these badges that would say stuff like ‘Potter Stinks’, and I liked to make him look like an idiot in front of his friends.” There were a few snickers.

“But he saved my life a couple of times, and I saved his, because in the end, we were both arseholes who severely overestimated how much we actually disliked each other. Now, he’s probably one of my best friends, and likely the first person I’d call if I were ever to fall off one of these damned staircases. Yes, he’ll likely burst a lung laughing at me and will bring it up until the day he dies, but he’ll also be there in record time with a spell and a potion to make it as if it never happened, in all the ways that count. So, trust me when I say that you should all cross your fingers and pray that he’s the one to replace Professor Slughorn.”

There were a few more whispers, but Harry decided that he’d done about as much as could to aid Draco’s acceptance into the staff, so he stood and picked up his wand. “Now, since we’re all assured that none of you will fail your Potions NEWTs in two years, we can continue with the lesson, since you might, in fact, fail your DADA OWL if you don’t pay attention.”

The bell rang soon after, and Harry dismissed the class with a longer than usual homework assignment, just to make sure they didn’t make a class discussion part of their regular routine.

Kira Brown stepped up to his desk after everyone had left, wringing the strap of her backpack in her hands.

“Yes, Kira?”

She took a deep breath, as if summoning her courage. “Are you and Draco Malfoy really friends?”

Harry nodded, then looked at her. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Kira looked slightly caught of guard, and he used the opportunity to grab a stack of papers that needed grading. He tipped his head, indicating for her to follow him. He led the way to his office, Kira tripling behind him uncertainly.

They ran into Slughorn as they turned a corner, and Harry stopped to greet him.

“Ah, Harry, my boy! I was hoping to run into you before dinner. I have some questions for you about the nightshade you’re wanting me to brew.”

Harry smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Professor, but you’ll have to ask Neville about that. I was just the post owl. And besides, I have other obligations right now.”

Slughorn seemed to notice Kira at Harry’s elbow.

“Ms Brown! How wonderful!” He leaned towards Harry conspiratorially. “One of my best students, that one. I do hope you’re planning on continuing with the subject for your NEWTs?”

Kira shot a hesitant glance at Harry. “Err- I’d like to, Professor.”

Slughorn clapped his hands together. “So wonderful!” He turned his attention back to Harry. “I’ll make sure to speak to Longbottom then. Have a pleasant evening, both of you.”

They kept walking, and Kira seemed less scared than she was a minute before. “Sir,” she said. “How did you cope with having your teachers leave so often? Because I think I’m really going to miss Professor Slughorn when he leaves.”

Harry smiled. “Yes, well, you’re lucky not to have to get to know a new teacher every year anymore. Sometimes it was a relief for us, especially since most of our professors weren’t all that good at their jobs. In the rare cases where I did grow attached, though, it was quite difficult for me to say goodbye.”

Kira grew quiet again until they reached Harry’s office. Harry opened the door and gestured for her to sit down.

“Kreacher,” he called while going about clearing some clutter off his desk. His elf popped up beside them, and he requested tea. Once Kreacher was gone, Harry sat down and regarded Kira with a serious expression.

“You wanted to know about Draco. I’m going to go ahead and assume this has to do with your sister?”

Kira averted her gaze and picked at the knee of her robes.

“Kira.” She looked up. “I know you’re not in my house, so we’ve never had the opportunity to have a discussion like this, but please know that I’m not in the business of disregarding anyone’s feelings. I’m not here to get upset at you for having valid emotions. I’m here because you shouldn’t have to struggle through them alone, and if it is within my ability to give you any clarity at all, I will do my best to do that. But you must be honest with me in return, okay?”

She nodded, then took another breath. “I don’t understand how people can forget about everything that happened so easily. It’s like nobody even cares anymore that real people got really hurt because of Death Eaters, and it hasn’t even been ten years yet.”

Harry winced slightly at her blunt phrasing. “Hmm.” Two cups of tea popped up in front of him, and he scooted one over to Kira. She took it hesitantly. “I think that sometimes, there’s a very fine line between forgetting and moving on.”

Kira nodded to show she was listening.

“I understand how it might seem that way to you, especially because you’re constantly reminded of the hurt that came with the war. I’d like to tell you a bit of a story, if you’re open to hearing it?”

Kira nodded again, and Harry continued.

“As you know, growing up, I didn’t have much of a family. Until I came to Hogwarts, I knew next to nothing about my parents. So, when I was in third year, I found out that I had a godfather. And a lot of things happened that year, but among them was a moment that I remember, simply because to this day I have never felt such strong hatred again, not even for Voldemort.”

Harry sipped at his tea.

“One of my parents’ best friends not only betrayed them and directly led to their death, but he simultaneously blamed the entire thing on my godfather, landing him in Azkaban for twelve years. This not only left me without any decent family for most of my childhood, but it also really hurt somebody that I grew to care for so, so much.”

Kira’s eyes had widened, and Harry paused a moment to let her process.

“I hated Pettigrew. Do you know the worst part of the entire thing? He wasn’t even a Death Eater, or a blood purist or anything that required passion. He was just scared, and he thought that Voldemort was his best chance at survival. And although he wasn’t the one to cast the spell that killed my parents, he made it possible. Does this sound a bit like what you’re feeling?”

Kira took he cup from the table with slightly shaky hands. “I guess so. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. He probably helped Greyback get into a position to attack Lavender.”

Harry sipped at his tea again. He hated the pain caused by this stupid war. Something that should have been over when he was born was now hurting his students, and would have hurt his own children, no doubt, if he had gotten around to settling down.

“Can I tell you something about Draco Malfoy, though? The ultimate reason I ended up forgiving him?”

Kira nodded, although she looked very sceptical.

“He didn’t become a Death Eater because he was scared, or because he didn’t have another option. Dumbledore and Snape and a lot of other people gave him an out, several times. But he stayed, because he knew that his mother was trapped. She couldn’t leave, so he wasn’t about to leave her in the hands of Voldemort without at least backup. He took on the mark, because if he didn’t, she would have been punished for it.”

Kira winced. “But wouldn’t he have been able to make more of a difference fighting for the right side?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he would have been stuck in a safehouse to wait it out, and I would have been killed in Malfoy Manor because he wasn’t there to save me. There is no way for us to know what would have happened, had any one moment gone differently.

“What I do know now is that Draco is one of my best friends, and one of the reasons for it is because he understands that when you’re desperate, you’ll do things you never even imagined yourself capable of. I know that I have a wonderful godson, and even though his parents aren’t here to raise him, he has a loving family who will do absolutely anything for him. I know that I can do this job because I know what it feels like to be child when the world expects too much of you and doubts your every move at the same time.”

“So, you’re saying that everything happens for a reason?” There was a bitter twinge to Kira’s voice, and Harry smiled despite himself.

“No. I’m saying that everything has already happened, and despite the bad things, a whole lot of good came out of it as well. Do you think Lavender would go back in time and stop herself getting scratched if she knew that doing that would mean her daughter was never born?”

Kira looked up sharply. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think she would, either. So yes, I understand that it feels like everybody is forgetting the severity of the situation. But I also think that it’s not fair to expect people to live in misery for the rest of their lives because they have to constantly remember the bad, instead of celebrating the good, if that makes sense?”

Kira nodded hesitantly. “So, if Draco Malfoy does end up teaching us potions next year…”

Harry winked at her. “You’ll learn more from him than you ever could from Professor Slughorn, because despite how undeniably experienced he is, he lacks Draco’s love for experimenting. You’ll see, if Potions is your thing, Draco is going to make you fall in love with it. He even got me to be slightly interested, and I honestly despise Potions with my entire being.”

Kira stared at the floor in silence for a moment, and Harry allowed her to get her thoughts into order. “Sir, do you think I could floo-call my family? I won’t be long.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, as if he had to consider it. “No telling anyone I let you, alright?”

She shook her head eagerly. He stood, grabbing a small container with green powder from his shelf. He tossed a handful into his fireplace and gestured for her to come closer. She stuck her head in, and he took a seat at his desk, letting her have her moment.

He knew that the entire school would know about Draco within the hour, but he felt reasonably confident that at least Kira would give him a chance. Good job, Potter.

***

“Aren’t the teachers’ quarters supposed to be bigger?” Draco asked, his nose crinkled in disgust.

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing past Draco into the rooms. He flicked his wand to turn on the light, revealing a room that was roughly double the size of Harry’s.

“You’re a fucker, you know that? What could you possibly need more space than this for?”

Draco dramatically unshrunk his possessions, and it filled up a good chuck of floor space. “Well for one thing, I can only fit about three cauldrons in here.”

Harry sat down on the sofa in the lounge area of the room and shot an exasperated glance at Draco. “You’re not brewing in your bedroom. You’ll go funny from breathing in the fumes all night.”

“Well what if a potion needs attention during the night?”

“Then you can walk five steps down the hall to your office, honestly.”

“Fine.” Draco came to sit next to Harry. He looked around the room, and Harry could see a softness to him that didn’t always make an appearance. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Being back? This used to be Severus’s room.”

Harry nodded. “It takes some getting used to.”

Draco sighed. “Those little shits had better do what I say if they know what’s good for them, so help me.”

Harry laughed. “You’re going to love them. After you scare the pants off them, mind.”

Draco swivelled his head towards Harry. “Do I scare the pants off you?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ve faced scarier things than you, Draco Malfoy.” He reached for Draco’s left arm and tugged the sleeve up to reveal the mark. It hadn’t faded at all, still sitting dark and contrasting against Draco’s pale skin. “Besides, we match.”

Draco was staring intently at Harry. He lifted a hand to lightly touch the lightning bolt that still sat, silent, above Harry’s eyebrow. “Yeah, we do.”

***

McGonagall gave a speech during the welcoming feast, introducing Draco as the new Potions Master and head of Slytherin house. Draco sat, back ramrod straight, dressed in perfectly ironed black and ice blue robes, making steady eye contact with the students. He looked comfortable and intimidating, and Harry could see the apprehension in the eyes of most of the students, and some of the staff. Hermione caught Harry’s eye from across the table, and she winked at him.

He couldn’t help but think that it would be a great year.

Of course, the parents didn’t take kindly to the news.

“_My little flower blossom_,” Hermione read, her voice dripping in sarcasm, “’_Will not be exposed to the influences of a racist snake_.’ Well, at least they understand that racism is wrong.”

McGonagall sighed from her place behind the desk. “They’ll get over it within a week when they see that their hollow threats aren’t making a difference. Especially since this decision has been approved by the Minister of Magic himself.”

“Classes haven’t even started yet, and they’re already accusing him of poisoning children,” Harry commented, casting another letter aside. “Do you want me to reach out to Luna for a press release?”

Hermione considered it. “I don’t know if it’s necessary. Just let things play out, I’ve managed to get Kingsley to step in with the Wizengamot members who were pushing for Slytherin’s removal, so we’ve got a good month before they start to sniff around again. By then, hopefully Draco has won over a few students with his… charming ways.”

Harry laughed and abandoned the rest of the letters on McGonagall’s desk. “Alright, let’s put our faith in the absolutely unpredictable energy that is Draco Malfoy.”

***

The first day of classes passed rather quickly. In the chaotic mess of smoothing out any clashes in timetables and making sure all his Gryffindors had chosen the correct subjects and directing the first years to their various classes, there wasn’t much time for Harry to worry about how Draco was doing.

He had his sixth-year class after lunch, and it seemed that some of them had already been to Potions.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted, and they settled down slightly to look at him with eager faces. “I trust that your OWLs didn’t scare you off too much, considering you’re all still here?”

There was a bout of nervous laughter, and Harry grinned.

“I’m supposed to be using this time to scare you, so you’ll study, but we’re not going to do that. Instead, let’s have a bit of a discussion.” He sat down on his desk. “Tell, me, how are you feeling about your OWLs results? Good? Could do better? Oh fuck?”

Predictably, he got a reaction for swearing. It was one of his favourite things to do during the first sixth year lecture. They weren’t children anymore, and he liked to let them know that he was aware of the shift.

There were only about forty kids in his class, much less than when he was at school. DADA was less of a staple now that the war was over, and more of a specialty.

They discussed some of their feelings towards their grades, and Harry nodded and engaged with them, cracking a few jokes to soothe their nerves. He knew that most of their other teachers would have put them through the ringer already, and he needed them to calm down and be rational about it.

“Our goal now, if you’ll bear with me, is to all pass the NEWTs in a little less than twenty months. I won’t be one of those teachers to tell you that I’ve already passed mine so it’s not my problem, because what good does that do? If you fail, it means I’m shit at my job, right?”

He noticed a few very passionate nods and shook his head in amusement. Every year.

“This doesn’t mean that you can put in no effort from your part and just blame it on me. What I’m trying to get at is that for the next two years, we act as one entity. If one person in the class isn’t getting something, it means we’ve all failed, because it’s our responsibility to look after each other. Don’t wait for me to notice that someone is struggling, or for that person to come forward with a question. Not everyone has that kind of confidence. I want you to learn from each other as much as from me, so we’ll be doing a lot of group work, and you will hate me for it. But in the end, we’re not leaving anybody behind, yeah? In six hundred days, we’re all leaving here with a DADA NEWT, deal?”

“You’re redoing yours?” Eugene Davis piped up, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Absolute trolls, the lot of you. Does anybody have any questions, or can I dismiss you and be left in peace?”

A hand shot up in the back, and Harry strained to make out who it was. Skylar Zabini, one of only four Slytherins in Harry’s class, and one of Harry’s greatest headaches ever since she stepped foot into the castle. Ginny should have known better than to raise Blaise Zabini’s cousin in a Weasley environment.

“Are you happy to have your _best friend_ working with you, Professor?” Her tone was syrupy sweet, with just enough of the wrong kind of inflection to cause insinuations.

Harry feigned confusion. “What exactly are you referring to, Ms Zabini?”

Skylar grinned. “Well, some of us had Potions this morning, and Professor Malfoy mentioned that you were his best friend. Is it true?”

The rest of the class had swivelled their heads towards Harry in mild curiosity. While Harry was certain that whatever Draco had said had been blown completely out of proportion by the hurricane that was Skylar Zabini, simply for the satisfaction of kickstarting the rumour mill.

“It is true that we’re friends, and as I told you last year already, I’m sure you’re going to learn a lot from him. Why? Is there a problem that I should be aware of?”

Kira, who was sat right up front, spoke up.

“I am really looking forward to Professor Malfoy’s classes. He seems to know a lot about the subject.”

Impressed with her sudden bout of courage, Harry nodded. “He sure does. Now, if everybody is fine with DADA, I’d like you all to bugger off and come back tomorrow with renewed energy, because we’re starting with a nice little revision pop quiz, just to make sure you haven’t been obliviated during the summer. Dismissed.”

The class left with a few groans, and Harry watched them with a pleased little grin. Nothing like the threat of work to make them scatter into every direction.

Kira stopped by his desk before she left. “Sir, I’d like to thank you for what you told me last year- “

Harry touched her shoulder and gestured for her to hang on. “Skylar, a moment.”

Skylar stopped in her tracks where she was trying to leave his class unnoticed. She sat on the nearest desk with a huff, and Harry returned his attention to Kira, who looked hesitant now.

“Kira?”

“Right.” She fidgeted with the textbook that was still in her hands. “Just, thank you for noticing that I was having a rough time. It meant a lot, even if I didn’t realise it at the time.”

Harry smiled. “Anytime. Are you ready to go forward at full speed, now?”

Kira nodded. “And I’ve already talked to Professor Malfoy about what bothered me last year. He had some really interesting things to say, and I completely understand the respect you have for him.”

Harry felt his curiosity burn white-hot, but he resisted the urge to press about what exactly Draco had told her. “Well, if you ever need another cup of tea, you know where to find me, alright?”

She left, and something in the way she walked let him know that she had been going through a tougher time than he realised, because she seemed to be carrying a lot less weight on her shoulders. He was so proud of her.

“You’re such a big sap,” Skylar commented as she lazily made her way to sit on the table in front of him. “You wanted to see me, sir?” She smiled, sweet and sarcastic.

“Skylar,” he said, trying for warningly, but ending up with a trace of a smile. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged innocently, and she looked so much like her mother that he had to bite at the inside of his cheek. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”

“Just, can you try and restrict yourself from stirring up trouble for Draco?” he pleaded, and Skylar looked victorious. She leaned in closer to him.

“Why? Do you have the hots for him?”

Harry frowned. He’d never even thought of the way their relationship might look to the outside world. “He’s my friend.”

“So? People fall in love with their friends all the time.”

Harry shook his head. “This is what I’m talking about. Will you keep your nose out of it?”

“Should you be this rude to someone who is practically your goddaughter?” Skylar asked with a dramatic scowl. “I’ll tell Ginny.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, so you’re a tattletale now? I see.”

Skylar burst out laughing and hopped off the table. She hugged him tight, and he smiled into her hair. “Go easy on him, please?” he asked.

She pulled back. “I really love you, Harry, but keep _your _saviour complex out of this. I’m sure Draco can take care of himself perfectly well.”

_Yes, _Harry thought, _that was the problem._

“Alright, go away.”

She skipped out of the class, stopping at the door to stick her head back in. “Could you let Ginny know I forgot my cauldron at home? I’m too lazy to walk up to the owlery, and I know you’re going to complain to her about me soon, so you might as well.”

She was gone before he could protest, and he could only shake his head in disbelief at the sheer ridiculousness of his job. These kids would kill him one day, he was sure.

***

“What the fuck am I meant to do with nine kilograms of powdered ginger?” Draco asked incredulously, emerging from the ingredients store with a gigantic bag of powder.

Harry sniggered. “Maybe Slughorn is trying to tell you that you need some beautification potion?”

Draco looked affronted and slammed the bag down onto his desk. “That son of a bitch never liked me, you know? Why couldn’t he take his shit with him? Why do I have to clean it out?”

“Well, you never have to buy powdered ginger root again, right? Let the students brew something with it.”

Draco grumbled something under his breath that sounded like ‘Fucking students fucking fuck’, then went back into the cupboard. Tabby was helping him move his personal stores, and she looked similarly unimpressed with the situation.

“Would Master Draco like Tabby to keep the jar of human hair here or at the Manor?”

Draco made a revolted sound and emerged a second later with a very dirty glass jar floating in front of him.

Harry laughed at his expression. “What’s wrong with that, then?”

Draco deposited the jar on the pile of things he was disgusted by. “Why on earth wouldn’t he use fresh ones? Where did it even come from?” He shivered dramatically.

Harry watched Draco clean out the rest of the stores, only making the occasional comment in response to something Draco said. It was peaceful, the ideal end of a first day of classes.

“Hey, Draco,” Harry brought up when Draco was just about done, only giving a final check that his meticulously organised system was perfectly in place.

“Yeah?”

“There’s a girl in one of your classes, a sixth year Ravenclaw. She said she spoke to you today.”

Draco came out of the cupboard, seeming to have deemed it adequate, because he shut the door firmly. He sat down right next to Harry on the small desk.

“Kira?”

“Yes.”

Draco nodded. “She did come to speak to me, yes. She said a lot of stuff about a conversation you two apparently had last year. Are you gossiping about me now?” His tone was playful, but Harry recognised the underlying seriousness.

“Did she tell you why we were gossiping?”

“Lavender Brown, right? Greyback bit her?”

“Only scratched, thankfully,” Harry corrected. “She’s fine; got some ugly scars across her face, though.”

“Yeah, she said.” Draco bit his lip. “I had to look her in the eye and tell her that if I could somehow go back, I’d do everything exactly the same.”

“Whatever you said, it swayed her.”

Draco’s head perked up. “She told you that?”

Harry nodded. “Good thing, too, since she’s apparently a big Potions nerd.”

“Oh, my favourite kind of nerd, second only to the ‘wears glasses and is an idiot’ kind.” Draco grinned at him, and Harry was suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. Skyler’s words from earlier echoed in his mind, and he cleared his throat.

“We might have another teeny problem.”

Draco groaned. “What now?”

“Skyler.”

Draco laughed. “Please, that girl hasn’t managed to one-up me since the day Blaise adopted her.”

“Yes, and she sees that as a challenge.”

Draco waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll handle her. How’s Teddy, by the way?”

Harry relaxed, and they managed to pass the time until dinner exactly like that, sitting shoulder to shoulder and talking.

When they entered the Great Hall together, Harry made eye contact with Skylar, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him. Harry wished he wasn’t a teacher, so he could flip two fingers in her direction without worrying about losing his job.

***

Halloween at Hogwarts was always a big deal. Harry could never quite get into the spirit of it all, but he observed from a distance as pumpkins and cobwebs were placed in every nook and cranny. Hagrid was seen on numerous occasions, carrying gigantic pumpkins and telling all who were willing to listen about the process of growing them to quite this height.

Harry’s office and classroom, however, were void of any such ornamentation.

Halloween fell on a Tuesday, meaning that Harry had an onslaught of first-year classes to get through before he could go hide in his quarters with a good book and a mug of something that wasn’t spiced with cinnamon.

“Alright, settle down,” he called out over the restless eleven-year-olds. They each managed to find a seat but were all visibly jittery. He really wasn’t in the mood to play into their excitement. “Can anybody tell me what day it is?”

A very excited Slytherin put up their hand. “Halloween, sir.”

“Correct,” Harry said. “Now, can anybody give me an example of protective magic that was used on Halloween?”

Just like that, he’d tapered their excitement into the lesson, and he felt a brief surge of relief. Only a few more classes to go.

He was in the middle of a discussion on the merits of enchanted protective clothing versus simple shield charms with the fourth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors when his door slammed open, causing everyone to start. He turned, reflexively, wand at the ready, but it was only Draco, looking absolutely furious and covered from head to toe in what appeared to be pumpkin guts.

Harry relaxed his stance, and he could see some of his class struggle to contain their sniggers.

“Alright, settle down, it’s hardly that funny,” Harry tried, but the smirk in his voice must have given him away. “Carving pumpkins with the third-years, were you?”

Draco scoffed, shoving past him and into his storeroom. Harry watched him go, then turned his attention back to his agitated students with a sigh. There was no way for him to get them back to focusing now.

“I’ll take seven inches comparing these two forms of protection in the case of a werewolf attack by Thursday. Class dismissed.”

Harry waited for all of them to scamper off before ducking into his storeroom. Draco was sat on the ground, apparently in a huff, with his arms crossed over his chest. Harry knew him better than that, though.

“Skylar?”

Draco gave a single firm nod, and Harry felt a surge of sympathy for the kid. She wouldn’t even know what was coming her way.

“Do you want me to do anything?”

“A cleaning charm would be nice, since my wand is still stuck in the pumpkin.”

Harry took a second to process, then started laughing. “She managed… to trap you… in Hagrid’s monster… thing?”

Draco huffed. “No need to find it quite this funny, thanks, Potter.”

“Oh, Draco, you’ve just made my day.” Harry wiped at his eyes, then moved his wand in a wordless cleaning charm that left Draco looking slightly ruffled.

“So glad to be of service,” Draco grumbled. “I’m going to _get_ her.”

“I know, I’m already feeling sorry for her. Are you going to sit here all day, or do you want to come down to my chambers and get smashed with me?”

“I have to find my wand, first, and I have my sixth years in a bit for their theory lesson.”

Harry felt his heart drop. He’d been prepared to spend the night alone, until Draco had shown up. Now he really, really didn’t want to be by himself.

“Can I sit in?” he asked impulsively.

Draco looked up at him, confusion clear as day in his grey eyes. “You want to?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t fancy being alone, that’s all.”

Draco’s eyes widened in understanding, and he nodded. “We’re discussing Golpalott’s Third Law, though, so it won’t be the most exciting of classes.”

Harry smirked. “Rather you than me, I’ve had enough trouble getting my classes to concentrate. I don’t even want to imagine how you’re going to get them to sit through whatever that is.”

“You had Potions in sixth year, Merlin, Harry. Didn’t you take in anything?”

“I was trying to look at you, mostly. Also, trying to figure out how to manipulate Slughorn. Not a lot of Potiony things going on in my head that year, I’m afraid.”

Draco stood, wiping his hands over his robes to get rid of any dust. “Then you might as well learn it now. Just don’t be disruptive.”

They made their way to the fourth floor, first. A gigantic pumpkin was just off to the side of the library entrance. It had a hole in the top that looked like it had been clawed out. Harry imagined Draco forcing his way out, and he had to fight the urge to giggle again.

Draco elbowed him in the gut and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you summon it?”

Harry tried, and the wand came shooting out of the side, nearly taking Draco’s head off.

“Oops,” Harry said, picking up the wand and wiping it on his pants to get rod of the guts. “Here you go, good as new.”

Draco took it between his thumb and forefinger with a disgusted expression. “Lovely.”

“Professor Potter!” Harry turned around to see a third year Gryffindor, his tie askew and hair all over the place. The battle to fix his appearance was futile, however, as the kid loved quidditch more than keeping his shirt neatly tucked. Harry sighed.

“Yes, Kirke?”

Kirke stopped in front of Harry, his hands on his knees and panting. “Sir, Veronica passed out in the library and she won’t wake up.”

Harry shared a look with Draco, then quickly followed Kirke, who lead them to a table near the back. Sure enough, Veronica Caldwell was splayed across the table, unconscious.

Harry quickly checked her vital signs, leftover from the futile Auror training he’d gone through before changing his mind. She was alive, her breathing even and steady. Draco cast a silent fleet of spells, looking thoughtful.

“Exhaustion. She’ll be fine after a good rest,” he murmured to Harry, who nodded firmly. Making sure her head was supported; Harry levitated the unconscious Gryffindor carefully.

“Thank you, Kirke,” Harry said. “We’re going to take her to the infirmary now.”

Kirke nodded, watching them with wide eyes. “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine,” Draco assured him. “You will probably be allowed to visit her by tonight.”

Watching out for places that could cause Veronica to bump her head, they made their way to the first floor. They managed to deposit her into Madam Pomfrey’s hands with minimal fuss.

“I’m a few minutes late for my class, but I reckon they’ll forgive me,” Draco said as they left the infirmary.

“I’m sure they’re devastated right now.”

They weren’t devastated. In fact, they were already sat in class, calmly discussing something from their homework. Harry tried not to show his astonishment.

There were only about fifteen kids in Draco’s NEWT class. Twelve of them also had class with Harry.

Draco walked in with absolute confidence and made his way to the front of the room. The quiet discussion continued, but Harry didn’t even try to make sense of it. He felt a few eyes on him as he followed Draco, feeling a bit like a lost sheep. Draco gestured to the chair behind his desk, and Harry sat down. Draco himself chose to stand in front of the chalkboard, just off to the side of the desk.

“Good afternoon,” Draco greeted as he wrote something on the board. Harry watched the students as they stopped their discussion and turned their attention to the front. A few of them looked at Harry, but for the most part, they didn’t seem to care. Skylar winked at him but didn’t try anything. Though she really couldn’t afford to push Draco’s limits anymore, Harry reckoned.

“I noticed you were debating something as I walked in. Would you like my input?”

Kira immediately started explaining the problem. Harry couldn’t follow what she was saying, but he was surprised at her willingness to speak up in class. The rest of the students didn’t seem at all surprised, seemingly used to her being the spokesperson.

Draco went about explaining something about antidotes that made one of the Hufflepuffs gasp and start to scribble on his parchment.

“Right, now that that’s sorted,” Draco said, turning his full attention on his students. Harry couldn’t help but think that he looked so attractive, dressed in his neat, flowy green robes with his hair perfectly tousled. He’d jacked up his sleeves, revealing just the edge of his Mark. “Golpalott’s Third Law. Did any of you read up on this, or would you just like me to tell you so you don’t have to?”

“Just tell us, sir,” Skylar called, apparently not scared enough not to participate in class. Draco didn’t show any sign of hostility towards her, only working the word ‘pumpkin’ subtly into his explanation, making her grin.

Harry watched Draco for the rest of the lesson. The way he held himself was so perfect, so smooth and so fluid. It was something Harry remembered from when they’d first started to become friends, before Draco had given in and allowed Harry to see him slightly more vulnerable.

This was the Draco everyone saw. He was proud of his clothes, his appearance, his abilities. It was clear as day that nothing you could say could make this Draco tremble. He was steadfast and immovable. It drove Harry crazy, in more ways than one.

The class interacted with him so effortlessly. It didn’t feel like Draco was interrupted whenever a question was asked, but rather like he moulded himself around it, like water. Harry couldn’t decide if he was jealous, impressed or just turned on. Either way, he had trouble tearing his gaze from Draco.

Draco finally tugged his sleeves back into place, which apparently signalled the end of the lesson.

“I’ve marked your Draught of Living Death essays.” Draco stepped up to his desk, shooting Harry a small smile. He grabbed a stack of parchment and turned back around. “They weren’t bad, necessarily, but I felt like some very important bits of information was missing.” He walked between the students, handing them each their paper. “Considering that we’re starting the brewing for this one on Friday, I want you all to read through the notes I wrote. Understanding the theory will, as always, assist you in making correct decisions while brewing.

“As much as Potions involves following the recipe, it relies on the intuition and insight of the brewer to ensure a successful product. Right now, I’d say most of you are about sixty percent there. I’d like you to write an additional thirteen inches discussing the notes I gave and bring it along on Friday. For next week Tuesday, I’d like eight inches on the basics of Golpalott’s Third Law.”

He made his way back to the front. “That’s all, you may leave. Do enjoy the Halloween feast, but I’d stay away from the pumpkin pie, if I were you.” With a glare in Skylar’s direction, he added, “One can never be sure of the kind of impurities that make their way inside those monstrosities.”

Skylar laughed, predictably, causing the rest of the class to look at her. She waved away their questioning glances.

Draco hovered in front of the desk, waiting for the class to clear out. Skylar came up to him.

“I didn’t know you had something against pumpkins,” she teased.

He glared at her. “Did you want something?”

“Yeah, I wanted to wish you a happy Halloween. Is that such a bad thing?” she said in that sweet tone of hers that made Harry’s toes curl in suspicion.

“You are in so much fucking trouble.” Even as Draco spoke, he pulled her in for a hug, messing up her hair in the process. Skylar didn’t fight, just squeezed him tight.

“Behave,” Draco called after her as she left. She waved a dismissive hand.

“Bye, Harry.”

“Behave,” Harry echoed, for all the good it had ever done them.

“Right,” Draco said with a relieved sigh. “Alcohol?”

“Yes, please.”

***

It was quiet in Harry’s rooms. He and Draco were on the soft carpet, Harry’s head in Draco’s lap as long fingers carded through the dark strands.

There were two empty bottles of wine next to them. The sun was just starting to set through Harry’s window, and the whole thing was enough to spark a weird mix of sadness and happy nostalgia in his gut.

There was a knock on Harry’s door, but neither of them made any move to get up.

“Harry?” came Hermione’s concerned voice. “I know you’re in there, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Harry blinked slowly, tearing his gaze away from the orange light on the windowsill to look up at Draco.

Draco huffed and gently lifted Harry’s head so he could stand up. Harry made a soft sound of protest but didn’t move other than tilting his head up to the ceiling. The wood had quite nice patterns on them. Harry liked it. It reminded him a bit of his old dormitory.

Harry could hear Draco speaking softly to Hermione, and Hermione answering back in a slightly less calm tone. Suddenly, his view of the newfound nice ceiling was interrupted by Hermione’s face.

“Mione, go away,” he mumbled, and she snorted lightly.

“We were worried when you didn’t show up to dinner, especially with it being Halloween and all. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Harry managed. “I’m watching the sunset with Draco.”

“Right,” Hermione said, her gaze flicking to where Harry presumed Draco was. “I’m glad you’re not alone tonight. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

Harry blinked again, and Hermione disappeared, only to be replaced by Draco.

“Do you want some water? I’m pretty thirsty,” he said, his voice raspy.

“Don’t wanna move,” Harry complained. Draco smiled, and then was gone.

He came back in a minute or so with two water bottles and a packet of Reece’s Pieces. “Did you know about muggle candy?” Draco asked as he slotted himself back into place under Harry’s head.

“Not a lot,” Harry mumbled. “Dudley didn’t like sharing.”

Draco stilled a little underneath him, then continued to open the packet. “Well, if you sit up, I’ll share with you. Just don’t choke.”

“Don’t wanna move,” Harry repeated. “I like you.”

Draco brought his hand back down to Harry’s hair. “We’re drunk,” he said gently, but his voice shook a little. “You don’t have to go anywhere unless you want to.”

Harry watched the last of the sunset and let Draco’s fingers lull him back to a slightly sleepy state. He was feeling less drunk, and more warm and oh, so comfortable.

“I’m so glad you’re my friend now,” Harry murmured. “I never liked hating you.”

Draco’s hand moved to the nape of Harry’s neck, right underneath his shirt collar, and squeezed. “Hating you made me feel sick. I always knew it came from a place of really, really liking you but not being good enough to be close to you.”

Harry blinked, then sat up slowly. He moved so he could see Draco, their shoulders and arms pressed together. “You always acted like you were better than everyone. Drove me nuts.”

Draco smiled sadly. “Had to, or they would see.”

“See what?”

“Me.”

“I like you,” Harry said.

“But I didn’t, and I didn’t want you close to something I hated so much.”

Harry reached out and took Draco’s hand in his. Draco’s skin was soft and his hand slightly bony, and he felt like something Harry never wanted to let go, ever.

“When did you drop it? The façade? Because it’s gone. You’re just you now.”

“I thought you were dead,” Draco said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I thought you were dead, and the only thing I could think of was that I never got to make it up to you. I never got to be your friend. And I knew it was my fault, somehow. So, I saw you there, in Hagrid’s arms, and I felt so scared and so hopeless, because I didn’t want to fight anymore. I wanted to run and hide, and I wanted my mum, but I couldn’t have any of that, because you were dead, and Voldemort wasn’t.”

Harry stroked his thumb along the back of Draco’s hand as he listened.

“But then you woke up, and it happened so fast I could barely even blink. Mum found me and we ran and hid, and suddenly I had everything I wished for when I thought you were dead, but it felt all wrong. It wasn’t what I wanted at all anymore. So, I ran from my mum to try and help you, to save you, if that was at all possible, but I was too late. I saw Voldemort fall, and I knew that I’d made it. But I didn’t know who I was.”

Draco took a breath. Harry took the opportunity to gently extract his hand from Draco’s. He cracked open his water, then chugged almost half of it.

“You’re you now,” Harry repeated. Draco nodded. Harry put his water down and went back to holding Draco’s hand.

They were back where they started, sitting in silence, just watching. Only they weren’t watching the sunset anymore, they were just watching each other.

It was completely dark out when Harry moved again. He felt almost completely sober, and he could tell that Draco did too. Whatever happened, whatever they did now, there was no hiding behind the barrier that was alcohol.

“Will you share your muggle candy with me?” Harry broke the silence. His voice felt scratchy from not being used for so long. Draco nodded, reaching for the forgotten packet next to him. They took turns with the packet, shaking a few out into their palms. Draco ate a whole handful at a time, but Harry popped them into his mouth carefully, one by one.

“I don’t like them that much,” Harry confessed. “Tastes like peanut butter.”

“Idiot,” Draco said. “They’re peanut butter pieces covered in chocolate, what did you think it would taste like?”

“Didn’t care,” Harry said. “You were sharing them with me.”

Draco softened, and Harry felt something pull him closer.

“I don’t like Halloween.”

“I know,” Draco said. “Because of your parents?”

“Yes.”

Draco nodded. “I get it.”

“Please don’t go,” Harry asked. Draco reached for his hand and squeezed.

“I won’t.”

“I’m tired.”

Draco stood, pulling Harry with him. Harry wobbled, dizzy from the sudden movement, but Draco caught him. They made it to Harry’s bed, and Harry climbed in. Draco pulled a face at the colour scheme but didn’t comment on it.

Harry reached for Draco, and their limbs tangled in the sheets. Harry breathed out and didn’t fight the drowsiness when it hit him in a wave.

***

Harry was in a bad mood, and apparently, he hadn’t done a good enough job hiding it.

“Harry.”

He groaned, not lifting his head from his arms that were propped up on his desk.

“Would you like to explain to me why there are currently second-year girls with McGonagall, complaining that you were rude to them?”

Harry finally forced himself to sit up. He was tired and had a headache that seemed to hammer endlessly at the inside of his skull.

“I wasn’t that rude.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her arms folded over her chest in a no-nonsense pose that never failed to make Ron slightly jittery.

“Look, I don’t know what happened last night with Draco, and it’s none of my business, but you cannot take it out on your students. It’s not like when we were kids anymore, you know? You can’t treat them like Snape used to without having a thousand over-protective mums beating you with their shoes. What did you think my job was for?”

Harry groaned. “I wasn’t nearly as bad as Snape, I swear. I might have snapped at them for giggling, but my head hurts.”

Hermione frowned in concern. “Did you ask Pomfrey for a Pain Solution?”

“Hermione, you know I can’t take those after I had that stunt with the Dreamless Sleep. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, you can’t teach if you’re going to be rude about it,” she said. “It’s not their fault if you’ve got a hangover.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine, I promise not to raise my voice above a whisper for the rest of the day.”

Hermione shook her head and turned to leave. “Should I have a word with Draco about how he’s treating you?”

“Why would you need to do that?” Harry asked. “I’ve handled Draco for years; I can take him. Besides, he didn’t do anything.”

Hermione shot him a meaningful look. “The two of you have never been particularly rational around each other, so I’m just looking out for you. Don’t think this means that I’ll let you get away with treating him like shit either, mind.”

Harry grit his teeth. “Nothing happened with him, will you drop it?”

Hermione raised her hands in surrender and left. Harry sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

There was a soft knock on his door.

“Come in.”

It was a Hufflepuff seventh year with a question about her homework. He tried to be more patient, and it must have worked, because she left with a grin and a “Thank you!” thrown over her shoulder.

***

“I heard you made the second-years cry this morning,” Draco said in lieu of a greeting when Harry sat down next to him for lunch in the Great Hall. Draco was watching a scuffle at the Slytherin table with a side eye, prepared to step in.

Harry scoffed. “The Hogwarts Rumour Mill: the bane of my existence.”

Draco shot him an amused glance. “It really hasn’t been kind to you, ever, has it?”

Harry smiled despite himself and reached for the nearest plate of food. “You seemed to enjoy it, at least.”

“Yes, well.” Draco lifted his wand, sending what appeared to be a sharp jab in the direction of the arguing students. They startled, their gazes shifting around until they landed on Draco, taking in his unimpressed expression. They immediately separated, sitting down on opposite sides of their group of friends. “It took less effort to start a rumour than to organise a press release, though I did do that a few times as well.”

Harry shook his head, then started eating. Draco helped himself to some sandwiches, vanishing the pickles with his wand under the table.

They were quiet for the most part as they ate. Harry listened with half an ear to Flitwick discussing growth charms with Neville but didn’t devote himself to the conversation. He was vaguely aware of Draco’s thigh close to his, but he didn’t let himself focus on it.

Once Draco had finished eating his sandwich (somehow managing to look flawless while doing it), he turned to Harry.

“I could use your help picking knotgrass in the Forest, if you’ve got an hour to spare.”

Harry knew that Draco knew his schedule just about as well as his own, and he didn’t have class for another two hours. Harry could try to make up an excuse about having papers to grade, but he didn’t want to.

“Of course.”

As they made their way to the entrance hall, Draco swerved by the Slytherin table. He stopped in front of the fifth years who had been fighting earlier.

“Mr Zeller,” he drawled. “Need I remind you that it is detrimental to our cause for you to be seen squabbling like imbeciles in such a public setting?”

Martin Zeller ducked his head, making swift eye contact with Harry before looking away.

“I apologise, sir.”

“There’s no need for such trivialities. What seems to be the problem?” Draco spoke quietly, turning his attention to Kevin Li, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“It’s my fault, sir,” Kevin admitted. “It won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure,” Draco drawled. “Regardless, I’d like to see both of you in my office in an hour.”

Martin and Kevin shot each other a look of such infuriated regret that Harry had to fight not to laugh. Draco turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the door. Harry couldn’t help winking at the two culprits, and they sent him a sort of remorseful smile. He had to widen his steps to catch up with Draco.

“I’ve taught those two for years,” Harry tried carefully. “They’re not known for breaking the rules. I’m sure you can go easy on them.”

“I know,” Draco said shortly. “But since you dragged me here to improve the general attitude towards Slytherin House from those already Sorted there, I need to be a bit more personally involved than I otherwise would be.”

“Alright,” Harry said. They ducked as Peeves swooped low over their heads. “Just thought I’d vouch for them a little.”

Draco shot him an exasperated look as they took the steps down onto the grounds. “Saviour complex, really? I’m hardly the villain.”

Harry winced slightly. “Yeah, I guess not. Sorry.”

Draco shook his head, a fond look on his face. “I wouldn’t have you any other way, honestly. It would just be wrong.”

Harry grinned.

They walked quickly to the edge of the forest. The air was starting to crisp up, reminding Harry that they were already on the far side of autumn. Soon it would be Christmas, which was always one of Harry’s favourite times of the year.

“Here,” Draco said, stopping Harry in front of a big cluster of tangled weeds. “I need a fuckton to brew Knotgrass Mead for Madam Pince.”

“Is that why she’s always so unpleasant?” Harry asked as Draco went about carefully cutting down most of the bush with his wand. “Knotgrass tastes a bit like rotting tomatoes, doesn’t it?”

Draco snorted. “Well if you’re going to stick the raw twig into your mouth, yes. I’ll have you know that whatever I brew will make her more tolerable, if anything. Besides, I like her.”

“You would,” Harry commented dryly.

Draco stood, having gathered and shrunk the whole bundle. They moved on to the next one.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’ve always managed to get into the good books of the more hostile people that most of us tried to avoid.”

Draco looked up at Harry with a thoughtful expression, then went back to his picking.

“You are in a good mood today, aren’t you?” he said sarcastically. “I can almost understand why those poor kids started crying this morning.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t make anybody cry. And besides, I just meant that you somehow got Snape and Umbridge and even fucking Filch to like you. It makes sense that Pince loves you too.”

“What can I say?” Draco said as he stood. “I’m likable.”

“I know.”

Draco looked at Harry, his gaze unreadable. “So you keep saying.”

He pushed past Harry to get to the next patch.

“And what, you don’t believe me?” Harry tugged a frustrated hand through his hair. “For fuck’s sake, Draco.”

Draco abandoned his gathered Knotgrass on the ground and swivelled to face Harry head on, his eyes blazing.

“I won’t let you ruin this for me, Harry. We’re past the point in our lives where we set out to make each other miserable, alright?”

Harry frowned, stepping closer to Draco. “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know why I’m here, you thick-headed fuck?” Draco’s voice was rising now, and Harry was glad they were well out of earshot of anyone on the grounds. He did not want their students to catch them fighting. “It’s not because of the Slytherins, not really, though now that I’m here, I wonder how they managed to cope without me, since _nobody _except for you seems to give a shit about them.”

“Then why?” Harry yelled right back.

“Because you asked me!” Draco waved his arms to emphasise his point. “You asked, and never in my life have I been able to deny you anything. Haven’t you noticed?”

Harry scoffed. “Oh, come off it. You refuse things all the time when I ask you. You’re insufferable sometimes.”

Draco’s anger seemed to leave him all at once, and he covered his face with his hands. They were still spotted with dirt in places, and the unexpected show of carelessness made Harry aware that he was well and truly fucked, much more than he even realised.

Harry stepped even closer to Draco, so they were almost touching. He reached out to wrap both of his hands around Draco’s wrists. He didn’t tug, just left them there.

“Tell me what you meant? What am I ruining? Please?”

Draco let his hands slide down, so they were suspended in front of his chest, and Harry was surprised to see his eyes were filled with angry tears.

“I wanted to be your friend since I was eleven, Harry. I finally have that, and it’s so much better than I ever imagined. I’m not prepared to give that up, especially not because of a fling that went wrong.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I thought I lost you when you still hated me, and it almost broke me. Can you imagine what it’ll be like now, when I know you, and I know what it’s like when your smile is aimed at me?”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look away from Draco’s watery gaze. He let his grip become gentle and rubbed his thumbs across the veins that contrasted so starkly with the pale skin of Draco’s wrists.

“Is that why you left this morning?” Harry asked softly. Draco closed his eyes, going almost limp. He nodded.

“Draco…” Harry trailed off, not sure what to say.

Draco stepped back, forcing Harry to release him. He rubbed angrily at his eyes. “I don’t have enough Knotgrass. I need to… I can’t meet with students like this.”

“I don’t think we’re done talking about this,” Harry said tiredly.

“We’re not,” Draco said, his voice much firmer than his dishevelled appearance would suggest. “But I meant what I said, the kids need me, and they need me to not look like Sorting Slytherin fucked me over completely. So, help me pick this so we can go to my office and I can put myself together in time, alright?”

Harry took out his wand, and they continued picking in silence. Soon they had enough for what Harry assumed would be enough mead to last Pince until next Halloween. He commented on it out loud, and Draco had to stop walking to wipe a fresh batch of tears from his eyes.

Harry couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault Draco was crying, and his heart hurt at the thought.

“Are you okay?” he asked helplessly, arms full of weeds. “I don’t like that you’re hurting, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Fuck off,” Draco bit out, but the harshness was undermined on account of him still crying. “Not everything can be fixed just because you want it to be, okay? I’m not going to melt from crying, this isn’t that dumb muggle film you made me watch.”

Despite himself, Harry had to laugh, because Draco had been so appalled by The Wizard of Oz, he’d spent a good three hours ranting about it.

Draco laughed too, but it sounded more like a sob. He took in another deep breath and seemed to shake himself. “Let’s go.”

They made it all the way to the dungeon entrance before they ran into someone. Hermione took one look at Draco, then glared at Harry.

“Let it go, Hermione,” he warned. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh, ‘_nothing happened with Draco’_, my arse,” she muttered, but let them pass. Draco glared at Harry, who could only shrug.

Draco’s office was neat, but his desk was a mess. Harry could only make out messy scribbles with entire sections crossed out and written over again.

“What were you working on?” Harry asked.

Draco dumped the Knotgrass in the corner, and Harry did the same. “It’s a variation on Skelegrow. I’m trying to make the entire experience more tolerable by blending it with a sleeping solution.”

Harry pulled a face at the memory of growing back his arm. “Anything you can do to make it feel less like being burned alive would already be an improvement.”

Draco disappeared into his rooms. Harry stayed put, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t even know where to begin with thinking about their conversation and what the implications of Draco’s words were, so he decided not to bother until he could devote his entire attention to the matter, and maybe have Draco’s input simultaneously. He just waited, not sure if he should leave. It didn’t seem right, even though he knew Draco had a meeting and didn’t need him hovering the entire time.

The knock on Draco’s door came before Draco had returned. Harry sneaked a hesitant glance at the door that separated Draco’s quarters from his office, but there was no sign of movement. With a sigh, he opened the door.

Both Martin and Kevin were standing there, looking slightly nervous. They seemed surprised to see Harry, if not a bit relieved.

“Come in. Professor Malfoy will be back in a few minutes.”

Harry conjured an extra chair so they could both sit down in front of the desk. He hovered behind it, feeling slightly out of his depth.

“Sir, we were really just having an argument,” Martin rushed out, as if he couldn’t wait another moment. “We weren’t going to make a big fuss out of it.”

Harry smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands, Mr Zeller. For what it’s worth, though, I don’t think you need to worry too much. I reckon you’ll leave with all your organs intact.”

“I wouldn’t make promises you have no way of keeping, Potter.” Draco stepped into the office. Harry didn’t know why he was surprised at how well Draco had managed to mask his emotional state, since he’d seen him do it before. His robes were clean and perfectly ironed, his hair falling in its natural position over his forehead. There was no part of him that would suggest he’d been crying just seconds earlier.

Harry was about to take his leave when Draco conjured up another chair, right next to his. He gave Harry a meaningful look, and Harry couldn’t do anything other than sit down.

“Now,” Draco said, turning to his students. He also sat, placing his elbows on the table and pressing the tips of his fingers together. It was something Harry had seen Snape do a hundred times. “Let’s talk. What happened?”

The students shot each other a weary glance.

“It was just an argument, sir. Friends argue all the time,” Kevin said.

“True,” Draco said. “Do you remember what I said to you at the beginning of the year, in the common room?”

“Yes, sir,” Martin said.

“Would you refresh my memory?”

“You said that being in Slytherin came with a built-in defence mechanism,” Martin muttered. “We don’t have to worry about the other Houses ganging up on us, because as long as there is more than one of us, we are protected.”

“And why are we protected?” Draco asked.

“Because we don’t reveal our weaknesses to anyone other than our own.”

“Yes. And did it occur to you that, in order to best protect each other, you need to know each other’s weaknesses?” Draco’s voice held a gentleness that made it clear that he was on their side. “Arguments are the most important things for friends to have, because without them, you’d never truly get to know their weak spots. I encourage it wholeheartedly.”

The students looked at each other again, this time much more confused than before.

“Sir? I thought we were in trouble for arguing?” Martin asked.

Draco tilted his head. “No, you’re in trouble for arguing in the Great Hall. We have a common room, or even dormitories, for a reason. Scream, shout, insult each other all you want in there. But it’s so important that when you’re in public, with the rest of the school, you never let them know you’re fighting. There are people who want to take our House away because of the stigma around it. I won’t let them, because it’s too important.

“The easiest way to break something down is to target any cracks that form from the inside. These cracks aren’t visible unless we show them. Always present a united front and have your disagreements behind closed doors.”

Kevin shot Harry a hesitant glance, then turned his question to Draco. “But sir, your best friend is a Gryffindor. Isn’t it hypocritical for you to tell us not to socialise with anyone else?”

“Is that what I said?” Draco asked sternly, sitting back in his seat and dropping his arms.

“No, sir,” Martin said. He turned to Kevin. “He’s saying that to stop others from attacking Slytherin, we shouldn’t attack each other where they can see. That’s like giving them permission.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, visibly pleased. “Be friends with whoever you want, I only care about things that affect our House.” He looks at Harry, and his expression is thoughtful. “When you’re in school, you’re lumped in with a group of people because of other people’s observations of you. You’re Sorted because of the Hat’s reasoning, and you become friends with the people you are friends with because of who they assume you are, or who you portray yourself to be. You have very little choice in the matter.

“After school, those boundaries are gone. You’re left to pick who you want to be, and who you want to associate with. But the same rules should apply to any relationship you care about. Defend them in public, then disagree with them when you’re in private. Otherwise it’s much too easy for other people to get involved in your business and make you doubt your loyalty to each other.”

“I think I get it,” Kevin said. “Sorry.”

“Think it over a little and see if it makes sense to you. In the meantime, until you can provide me with a counterargument of why public disagreements are beneficial, we’re sticking with my rule. No more arguing in the Great Hall, do it in the Common Room.” Draco shifted. “Now, as for the actual argument: would you like my opinion on the matter, or are you capable of working it out by yourselves?”

“I think we can work it out, sir,” Martin assured him.

“Good. Get to class.”

They let themselves out, closing the door behind them. The moment they were gone, Draco slumped forward in his seat.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “They were about two seconds away from seeing me bawl my eyes out.”

Harry placed a hand on Draco’s back. “That hit a bit close to home.”

Draco snorted out a laugh and sat up. “Thanks for staying, I wasn’t sure if I could keep it together if I didn’t have physical proof of you not hating me next to me.”

“You’re my best friend, Draco. I don’t hate you.”

Draco shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What does that mean? I’m trying to understand what you’re feeling, but you keep saying these cryptic things that I can’t decipher.” Harry moved his hand that was still on Draco’s back in a trail down his arm, until he could gently grab his hand. Draco allowed him with a hesitant glance.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Draco said.

“Yes, so you’ve said,” Harry muttered. “Why do you think that’s going to happen?”

“Because you keep holding my hand and _looking _at me, and I think I know what you want, but I can’t give it to you without being prepared to give you up completely.”

“Do you?” Harry interrupted. “Know what I want, I mean?”

Draco sighed, dropping his head onto the back of the chair. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

“Alright.” Harry moved his fingers so they could intertwine with Draco’s. “Do you remember when you were cleaning out Slughorn’s junk from the ingredients cabinet?”

Draco watched him quietly.

“I want to be the one who sits with you, and laughs with you, whenever you’re doing something unpleasant. I want to be the one you complain to when the second years fuck up their potions. I want to be the first one you tell when you’ve discovered something new and exciting, even if I don’t understand a word of it.”

Harry squeezed his hand.

“I want to hold your hand, and have you play with my hair and fall asleep next to you, but I’d also like to wake up without having to wonder whether you are still there or not.” Harry took a breath. “I just want to be important to you. Does that sound like losing me to you?”

“Harry.” Draco sat up; his eyes so sincere. “You’re already the most important person in my life.”

“Then tell me what you want?”

“I want…” Draco snivelled, and Harry spotted a tear clinging to his left eyelash. “I want all those things you said. But I’d rather not know what it feels like to have you so completely to myself, only to have to give you up again.”

“Draco,” Harry said seriously. “You’re one of the bravest people I know. Stop being a coward about this. Give me one good reason, other than ‘this whole thing is doomed’, why I shouldn’t kiss you right now. Say you don’t want me to, and I’ll back right off.”

Draco’s eyes widened, then flickered almost unwillingly to Harry’s mouth. Harry leaned forward so their foreheads were touching.

Draco’s gaze hardened, and his hand made its way up to tug at Harry’s hair. “Don’t call me a coward, scarhead. I’ve always been better at insulting you.”

“Wasn’t an insult,” Harry said with a soft smile, rubbing his nose against Draco’s. “It was a strategic move to make you just angry enough to stop being so scared.”

“I’m still scared,” Draco admitted.

“I know,” Harry said. “I am too, I just don’t fucking care.”

He leaned in, slotting their lips together gently. Draco responded, his hands wrapping around Harry’s shoulders to pull him closer. Harry tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his hands moving to Draco’s back.

It wasn’t perfect, not with the armrest of Draco’s chair digging into Harry’s ribs, or the faint trace of tears that made Draco’s eyelashes flutter wetly against Harry’s cheek.

But Draco’s tongue was soft and forgiving against Harry’s, and he wasn’t putting up a front or pushing Harry away, so Harry loved it anyway.

It was Harry who pulled away, gently sweeping across Draco’s cheekbone with the back of his index finger.

“Are you done crying, now?”

Draco laughed, shoving lightly at Harry. Harry didn’t let him get far, keeping him close with a firm hand.

“I happen to enjoy a good cry every now and then, and I won’t let you shame me for it.”

Harry leaned in to place a quick kiss on Draco’s lips, just because he could. “I have a class soon.”

Draco pulled a face. “I should start on that mead.”

“Will you save me a cup?” Harry asked.

Draco scoffed. “You can come get yourself some, since I’ll be busy with it until dinner and I’m not about to sit here on my own.”

Harry grinned. “Fine. I’ll see you in two hours.”

***

The Christmas decorations went up around the 28th of November. Harry nearly walked right over Hagrid, who was carrying the usual monstrosity that he considers a Christmas tree for the Great Hall.

“Careful, Hagrid,” Harry warned. “Nearly took my head off!”

Hagrid strained his neck until Harry could see his face. “Hey there, Harry! How’re ya?”

Harry grinned. “Really good, thanks. You’re coming to Christmas dinner, right?”

“Yes, course, wouldn’t miss it. I thought you’d be spending the day with Malfoy, this time around?”

Harry fought the blush that threatened to spread over his face. “We still need to discuss it, but you know how I feel about the kids.”

Hagrid smiled proudly. “I know. Good for you, Harry. You look real happy.”

“Thanks, Hagrid.” He scratched at his eyebrow. “Listen, I need to go, but I’ll pop by for tea later.”

Hagrid bid him goodbye, and Harry continued on his way to McGonagall’s office. Hermione was already there, seated opposite McGonagall and reading through a thick pack of parchment that Harry recognised as a legal contract.

“What’s this, then?” Harry asked as he took his seat.

“The Wizengamot are trying to get us to settle into an agreement. They’ve apparently got grounds to dismiss Headmistress McGonagall, though they won’t reveal what exactly these grounds are.”

“And in return…” Harry felt his blood run cold.

“They’ll leave her be if Slytherin is removed.”

Harry looked at McGonagall, who was frowning in that pensive way of hers that had been the reason for Harry almost shitting his pants in fear all through his school years.

“That can hardly be substantial, can it?” Harry asked, hopeful.

“I suspect they’re going to try and pin it on her age, though that’s absolutely ludicrous. Anyone with a brain can tell that she’s more competent than just about anyone else,” Hermione muttered angrily.

“This is blackmail,” Harry said. “They can’t legally be allowed to do that?”

Hermione sighed. “Since they’re the ones who will vote in any criminal trial against them, I reckon they’re willing to go out on a limb.”

“What do we do?”

McGonagall tapped her fingers on the table. “I am rather old, aren’t I?”

Both Harry and Hermione moved to protest, but McGonagall raised a hand.

“What if I retired? Hermione has been at my side for four years, she’s more than capable of taking over. I won’t need to handle any more hurricane children running amok all over the place.”

“Honestly, Headmistress,” Hermione said sternly. “I don’t think letting the Wizengamot think they can control our actions is the best way to go. If you’d still like to retire after everything is settled, by all means.”

McGonagall sighed wistfully. “You’re right. Besides, what would I do with myself all day?”

Harry smiled, but it was half-hearted. What was he going to tell Draco if they failed to fix this?”

“We’ll sort it out, Harry,” Hermione said gently, accurately interpreting his expression. “I need to talk to Kingsley. Do you still have contact with Auror Robards?”

Harry sat up straight. “I think he’ll respond to my owl, yes.”

Hermione nodded. “Excellent. We need as many ex-Slytherins as we can get. The higher their rank, the better. Write to Robards, get him to assemble a group of formidable Slytherins. I’ll arrange a meeting with Kingsley and get him to do the same. Do you think Draco will be willing to help?”

Harry winced. “He’ll be willing, yes, but I don’t know if I want to involve him.”

“Why?”

Harry hesitated, uncertain how to phrase ‘he’ll be upset the entire time and I don’t want to put myself through that’ without sounding like a lovesick idiot.

“Just let me think about it, okay? In the meantime, we’ll get Robards and Kingsley to get the ball going.”

Hermione sighed. “Fine. I’ll talk to Ginny, too. Blaise is doing wonders with Olivander’s shop.”

“Is there anything I can do?” McGonagall asked.

“Headmistress, you just focus on resisting the temptation of retiring before we’ve figured this out,” Hermione said with a grin. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

***

“We need to talk about Christmas,” Draco announced. He was digging through a big box that had arrived via four tired-looking owls that morning. “I don’t know if your distaste for holidays extend to this one, but you’re going to get over that very quickly, because I consider it the absolute bane of my existence.”

“I thought that was supposed to be me?” Harry joked, coming to wrap his arms around Draco from behind.

“Hmm, maybe if you’re wearing nothing but tinsel, I’ll consider it.”

Harry laughed, dropping a kiss onto the junction between Draco’s ear and collarbone. He went to stand on the other side of the box. “What are we looking at, then?”

“These are my Christmas things,” Draco said. “I had Tabby pack it up and owl it for me so I can have it with me.”

Harry reached into the box, taking out a beautiful ornament. It was a glittery peacock, carved out of marble and painted in shimmery paint that reflected the light. Draco’s gaze softened and he reached out to take it from Harry.

“I got this when I was fifteen. It was a gift from my father,” he explained.

“It’s stunning,” Harry said. He took out another one, this time a dragon made of thin silver wires carefully wound together. “This one?”

“From my mother. I was nine. I carried it with me for weeks.” Draco carefully flipped it in Harry’s hand, pointing at a spot where a wire was obviously missing. “That’s from me accidentally dropping it. I cried all night until Severus offered to fix it, but I wouldn’t let him near it.”

Harry smiled at the thought of little Draco, stupidly obstinate even with his Christmas ornaments.

They went through the box, taking out numerous different ornaments that each had its own story. When they got to the bottom, there was a large pile of tinsel and strings of enchanted fairy lights.

“Shall we put it up, then?” Harry asked once everything was laid out on the table.

It took them just under an hour to decorate the tree Hagrid had apparently supplied after Draco had asked him about getting one for his quarters. Harry felt extra fond of it, knowing that each ornament meant something so special to Draco.

“What are your plans for Christmas day?” Harry asked.

“I’d like to spend Christmas morning with mother. She takes tea in the conservatory and Tabby makes a fleet of cakes. I reckon Andromeda and Teddy might also come.”

“The Weasleys do a big Christmas Eve dinner. If you want, you could come with me? And I’ll join you for breakfast, if you want?” Harry asked shyly, fiddling with a branch to avoid looking at Draco.

Draco took his hands, tugging Harry right into his personal space. “I do want. A little birdie – well, it was actually quite a large birdie – told me that you always show up for the Hogwarts Christmas feast?”

Harry groaned. “It was Hagrid, wasn’t it?”

Draco shrugged. “He talked about you the entire time he was carrying my tree. He’s very proud of you, you know. You’re lucky to have someone who supports and loves you as much as he does.”

Harry hid his face in Draco’s neck. “I know. He has his faults, but I couldn’t have asked for a better father figure.”

“It’s starting to feel like I need to organise an official schedule so we can get to all the people who love you on Christmas,” Draco joked. “Where else do we need to be?”

Harry laughed. “The feast is at noon on Christmas day. It’s usually for the kids who stay over Christmas break. It used to be me, since I had nowhere to go.”

“Saint Potter,” Draco mumbled, but it lacked any sort of bitterness. “I do love you so much.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat, and he hugged Draco closer. “I love you, too,” he whispered.

If they got nothing else done for the rest of the day, it was hardly their fault. Christmas was approaching, the tree was glittering and Kreacher brought them as much hot chocolate as they could drink.

***

In the end, Kingsley and Robards didn’t really need their assistance.

“It’s all sorted, then?” Harry asked. He was sat on the floor in front of his coffee table, grading papers. Hermione was splayed out on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand. Ron was on his way, planning to spend Friday evening with Harry, then taking his wife home with him.

“Yes. It’s strange, isn’t it? Not having to do everything ourselves?”

Harry stared at the paper in front of him, not really reading the words written there. He hadn’t done anything other than write a letter to Robards, and Hermione had attended all of three meetings before deciding to leave it to the authorities to handle.

“It’s about time people started doing their jobs,” Harry commented. “It shouldn’t be the responsibility of teenagers to overthrow a corrupt government.”

Hermione looked at him. “I know, but we’re adults now. I kind of want to be the one dealing with things.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Are you still satisfied as the ministry liaison, or would you like to switch to a job that’s less making sure children aren’t shouted at and more actual conflict?”

Hermione sipped at her wine. “I think I needed a break from constantly fighting against powers larger than me, but I might be getting bored.”

“Would you want to take over from McGonagall, as she offered?”

Hermione sighed. “I don’t know. I might go do some legal work for Kingsley. We’ll see.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Harry assured her. “And you’ll be magnificent at whatever you end up doing.”

Hermione smiled. “You’re getting soft. I like it.”

Harry shot her a look. “Maybe I’ve always been soft.”

“Yes, but you were fighting a war. Now you’re happy and relaxed and in love. It suits you.”

Harry cringed. “Imagine if I’d gone through with becoming an Auror. I’d be all stoic and careful all the time.”

“It would have been completely wrong,” Hermione agreed. “I don’t know if I was cut out for the whole ‘softness’ gig, myself.”

“You’re plenty soft,” Harry argued, “You just have a backbone too. Ask Ron.”

The floo flared up and the man in question stepped out, dusting off his robes. “Ask Ron what?”

“Hermione doesn’t think she’s capable of being soft.”

Ron shot his wife a confused glance. “You’re capable, just not limited to it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Is there any wine left?”

“Under a stasis spell next to the kettle,” Hermione said with a dopey smile. Harry grinned and tried to focus on his work.

Ron had barely poured himself a glass and settled in with Hermione’s feet popped up in his lap when there was a knock on the door.

“Why is he insisting on knocking now when none of us want to get up?” Hermione asked lazily.

“I assume that’s the ferret, then?” Ron asked casually. He had yet to hang out with Draco as Harry’s partner, though they were on civil terms for the most part.

“Are you going to call him that to his face again?” Hermione asked in a hopeless tone.

“Probably,” Ron admitted. “Depends on whether Harry behaves or not.” He smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes and got up to open the door.

Draco looked slightly nervous on the other side of the door, holding a bottle of what Harry recognised as his Knotgrass Mead.

“Oh, yum, glad you brought that,” Harry said, pecking Draco on the cheek. “What are you looking so tense for?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s your friends, isn’t it? Feels a bit like I’m meeting your parents.”

“Oh, no, that’ll happen on Christmas, and it’ll be much worse,” Harry joked with a grin. “Come in, Hermione’ll keep him in check.”

Harry took the mead to be placed under stasis with the wine, then went back to his spot with his papers.

“When’s this due, then?” Draco asked, toying with the corner of one of Harry’s papers.

Harry smiled sheepishly. “Monday?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fuck’s sake, Hermione. How did you put up with these two for as long as you did?” He tucked himself in beside Harry and reached for a quill. Harry shot him a grateful smile.

“I ask myself the same question every day, especially since I married one,” Hermione quipped.

Ron tickled her feet and she squealed. “Careful,” he laughed, taking her glass from her. “You’re going to spill all over the first-year papers.”

Draco smiled. “Rather first than sixth. They’ll eat him alive if there’s wine on their papers.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron agreed. “Isn’t Skylar in that class?”

“Oh yes,” Harry said. “She’s a headache in a Slytherin tie.”

Draco seemed to relax after that, bantering effortlessly with Harry’s friends as they finished up the last of Harry’s papers.

When Ron finally steered Hermione through the floo, it was late enough for Harry to fight off yawning every few seconds. He was feeling pleasantly warm from the mead and from Draco tucking into his side, eyes closed and on the verge of falling asleep.

“Draco,” Harry mumbled. “Do you want to go to bed?”

Draco nodded against him. “Carry me,” he demanded sleepily. “Don’t wanna open my eyes.”

Harry smiled fondly, raking his fingers through the soft blond strands. “Whatever you want.”

When Harry woke up the next morning, Draco was still sleeping soundly, limbs splayed all over the bed and all over Harry. He smiled to himself. Things really were going his way.

***

They heard the Weasleys long before The Burrow became visible as they tracked up the small hill from where Draco had apparated them.

“Who exactly is all going to be here?” Draco asked nervously.

Harry grinned at him. “Just about everybody. Relax, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Draco argued. “This is your family. Fuck, I should have brought presents.” He stopped in his tracks. “Can we go get presents?”

Harry rolled his eyes and tugged at Draco’s hand. “Do that thing where you suck it up and make it seem like you own the entire planet.”

“I don’t have a ‘thing’.” Draco said, affronted. He went quiet though, since they were nearing the garden where the usual tents had been put up. Harry felt an odd kind of sadness at not having been here to help set everything up, even though a large part of his childhood had been devoted to avoiding Mrs Weasley whenever there was anything to do.

George noticed them first. He came over to greet them. “Harry!”

Harry hugged his friend, letting go of Draco’s hand to do so.

“Hey, George. I heard the shop is doing so well. Congratulations.”

“All thanks to you, mate.” George grinned, then turned to Draco. “Draco Malfoy. Harry told us he was bringing you, but we weren’t sure if we all collectively misheard him. Seven times.”

“Come off it,” Harry grumbled. “I don’t talk about him that much.”

George raised an eyebrow at Harry. “Alright, whatever you say.” He held out a hand for Draco to shake. “Welcome, mate. Merry Christmas.”

Draco, despite insisting that he didn’t have a ‘thing’, had done that thing where he made it seem like he had never been more comfortable than in the Weasley’s back yard. “Thanks for having me.”

Soon everyone had spotted them, and Harry found himself passed from family member to family member as Draco desperately tried to stick to his side.

“Hey, where’s Molly?” Harry asked, once he was sure that everyone had been sufficiently hugged.

“In the kitchen, I think,” Fleur said. Harry smiled gratefully at her, then tugged at Draco to follow him.

Molly was in the kitchen, transferring mince pies onto a big plate. Ron was with her, crunching on what seemed to be an entire raw carrot.

“Let me carry that for you, Mrs Weasley.”

She looked up and smiled when she saw Harry. “Oh, Harry! You made it!” She hugged him tightly, and Harry found himself pulling faces at Ron over her shoulder like they always used to do. Ron sniggered.

“There’s no need for you to do anything, Harry. Ron can take it with him when he goes to help Charlie with the heating charms.

Ron rolled his eyes. “But Mum, Harry didn’t even have to spell all those tables together,” he whined. “Why can’t he help? You always say he’s as good as your son and then you don’t make him suffer like the rest of us.”

Harry moved quickly, trapping Ron in a headlock and ruffling his hair. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus, you lazy arse.”

“Boys!” Mrs Weasley interrupted sternly. “You’re going to knock the pies off the counter.”

They separated, grinning at each other.

“Hello, Draco,” Molly greeted. “Don’t mind them, they forget that they’re not children anymore.”

“Mum,” Ron complained. “We’re not old yet, or anything.”

“Yes, dear. Why don’t you use that young energy of yours to help your brother with the warming charms, then?” Molly’s voice was sweet, but Harry saw right through it. It was the voice of a woman who had too many children.

“Yes, Ron. Go help Charlie.” Harry grinned cheekily at Ron’s put-out expression.

“I’m pretty good at warming charms,” Draco volunteered.

Ron perked up. “Yeah? I’ll show you where they’re working on it.”

As Ron left with Draco in tow, Draco sent Harry a slightly panicked look. Harry waved him off with a smile. He was going to be fine.

“He’s quieter than I imagined,” Molly commented.

“I think he’s a bit overwhelmed,” Harry told her. “He’ll warm up soon enough.”

“You look really good. Happy.”

“Hermione says I’m going soft,” Harry said.

Molly regarded him for a second. “It’s about time you get to let your guard down and just enjoy your life, love.”

Harry stepped up to take the plate of pies. “Thanks Mrs Weasley.” He kissed her on the cheek quickly. “I’ll see you later.”

As suspected, Draco was doing fine. When Harry showed up to stand at the entrance of the tent with his hands in his pockets, Draco was casting while chatting with Bill, who was holding a baby.

Harry was about to make his presence known when something knocked into his legs from behind, and he gave a big ‘oof’ as he tried to keep his balance. He turned his head.

“Hey, Teddy,” he said, picking up the small boy. Teddy’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and Harry felt his heart swell about three times bigger.

“Harry, I love you,” the eight-year-old muttered into his neck. “Draco!” He shook his legs to be put down, and Harry complied.

Teddy’s cry must have alerted Draco of their presence, because he turned his head. Teddy ran over to give Draco the same treatment he had Harry.

Andromeda came up behind Harry with a tired smile.

“Busy day?” Harry asked.

She sighed. “The kid likes Christmas more with every year that passes, it seems.”

Harry laughed. “That might be Draco’s influence, I’m afraid. He’s even got me drinking tea from a mug that sings carols to warn you that your tea is going cold.”

“You love that mug, don’t blame it on me,” Draco called, walking closer with Teddy swung over his shoulder. He put him down gently. “Have you seen the baby, Teddy? She’s so small.”

Teddy’s eyes widened when he looked at Bill, who was eyeing their circle with an amused look in his eyes. He leaned closer to Harry.

“Harry, is she sleeping?” he whispered.

Harry ruffled his suddenly pink hair. “Go ask uncle Bill.”

As Teddy ran off, Draco stepped closer to squeeze Harry’s hand. “I love that kid.”

Harry smiled too. “I told you everybody would be here.”

Dinner was served in the tent, more in a picnic style than a traditional Christmas dinner. Harry sat with his family around him, smiling indulgently at Teddy showing off new tricks he’d learned to do with his nose.

Draco elbowed him lightly to catch his attention.

“Watch Skylar,” he muttered. Harry raised an eyebrow, then spotted Ginny at the other side of the table, Skylar next to her. The teenager in question was eyeing the piece of shepherd’s pie on her fork with great suspicion. Harry watched as she took a bite, then frowned even deeper. Skylar said something to Blaise, who laughed out loud, then reached over to take a bite of Skylar’s food. He shook his head, and she huffed.

“What did you do?” Harry asked, suddenly suspicious. Draco grinned.

“Just a mild Sensory Alteration Serum in her drink. Everything she eats will taste like peanut butter for the next two days.”

Harry laughed, caught of guard at Draco’s genius.

“Poor kid.”

“No. If she didn’t want her roast beef to taste like peanut butter, she shouldn’t have trapped me in a giant pumpkin,” Draco said with a shrug. “She’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Sure enough, they’d just sat down with Ginny and Blaise with their bowls of trifle, when Skylar came marching up to them, a pissed off expression on her face.

“What did you do to my food?” she demanded to know. “I asked Molly, there’s no peanut butter in this, or in anything, since Teddy’s allergic.”

Draco kept a straight face, spooning some sponge cake into his mouth. “You’re right, it doesn’t taste like peanut butter. Why do you bring this up?”

His act was so innocent, Harry wanted to rough him up a bit. Instead, Harry focused on Skylar, who was yelling about peanut meat, attracting the attention of the people around them.

“What are you on about, Skylar?” George called.

Skylar turned to him, still furious. “Draco did something to my food. Everything tastes like peanut butter.”

George glanced at Draco, then burst out laughing. Draco smirked, knowing he was caught out.

“He didn’t do anything to your food, love,” George said.

“Little bit of serum in your drink,” Draco commented offhandedly. “Should last a couple of days.”

Skylar looked shell-shocked. “On Christmas? Really, Draco?”

Draco shrugged innocently. “If you’re looking to play with the big boys, you need to face the consequences.”

Everyone settled down after Skylar stalked off to the kitchen, likely to find someone to complain to.

“I gave her the antidote as a Christmas present,” Draco told Harry under his breath. “She should find it in time for her to enjoy Christmas lunch with Blaise’s folks.”

Harry kissed Draco quickly. “I love you, you absolutely creative bastard.”

“Oi, Ferret!”

Draco startled, turning to glare at Ron, who was smirking down at them, holding a broom.

“Really, Ron?” Harry asked, exasperated.

“What? I told you I’d call him that to his face if you didn’t behave.” Ron looked much too proud of himself, in Harry’s opinion. “Care to see if you’re old yet?”

“I’m game,” Ginny said, handing Blaise her half-eaten dessert. “You’re all going to regret not letting me play with you when we were kids.”

Charlie laughed, coming up behind her and ruffling her hair. “You say that every year, little sister.”

Ginny swiped at him, leading to a small wrestling match. Charlie eventually just picked her up, carrying her upside down to the clearing.

“Harry?” Ron asked. “Are you playing?”

Harry glanced at Draco, who already had a scheming look on his face.

“Sure, but Draco’s not on my team. I won’t be dragged down by the untalented likes of him,” Harry said casually, getting up.

Draco jumped up, affronted. “Oh, we’re playing it this way, are we? I call Ginevra on my team. We’ll show you jerks where you can shove it.”

***

Breakfast at the Manor was a much calmer affair.

“Would you like another cup of tea, Harry?”

Harry smiled at Narcissa and handed Tabby his cup, who refilled it quickly.

“These flowers are looking much better, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry remarked, taking back his cup.

Narcissa looked thoughtful. “Yes, thank you for getting Longbottom out here to look at them. He had some quite interesting things to say.”

Mornings with Narcissa in the conservatory reminded Harry of the year right after the war, coming here despite feeling like he’d rather chew off his own ear, just because Narcissa invited him and he felt sorry for her. Of course, it soon became a place for him to hide from people who wanted things from him. Narcissa, despite her flaws, never expected anything more from him than to comment on the unique colour of the roses.

“I heard he’s getting married in the summer,” Draco said, entering the room and heading for his seat next to Harry. “To that Abbot girl, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yeah. Hannah,” Harry confirmed. “She’s sweet.”

“Good for him,” Draco said softly. “He’s had a rough time.”

“How are you getting on at Hogwarts, Draco?” Narcissa asked.

Draco immediately ceased the opportunity to rant about several things. Harry listened with half an ear, focusing instead on the soft morning light that filtered in through the window and warmed him lazily. Draco’s thigh was pressed against his, shifting as he spoke enthusiastically.

Harry absently reached out to touch the back of Draco’s neck with his fingertips. Draco leaned into the touch but kept talking. Harry made eye contact with Narcissa, who was sipping at her tea with an amused twist to her lips.

Harry used to think he would never have a home of his own. Sitting in his dark cupboard, he used to dream about the house he’d live in if he ever managed to get away from his aunt and uncle. His vision included a front door that he could close if he didn’t want somebody to come in, a room with a big bed all to himself and a kitchen that he could use as he pleased, and the freedom to eat whatever he made.

With a bar that low, Harry was surprised that he still hadn’t managed to fulfil his ten-year-old self’s wishes. He found that he didn’t care much. He liked living at Hogwarts. He liked sharing his bed with Draco. He loved Kreacher’s cooking, now that the elf didn’t hate him anymore.

Somehow, he thought that his small self would be very happy with this outcome. Harry wished he could tell him to just hang in there for one more day. Soon, he’d meet a snooty little boy in Madam Malkin’s and his life would change forever.


End file.
